


Shoah

by kelex



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-31
Updated: 2013-07-31
Packaged: 2017-12-22 01:09:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelex/pseuds/kelex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A soldier of the Third Reich, Captain James Ellison fights the ideals of the Reich as he sets out to protect a Jewish prisoner in his care--a captured teacher by the name of Blair Sandburg</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shoah

**Author's Note:**

> Acknowledgements:   
> To Lisa, for giving me the plot (Hey Kel, why don't you do this one...), for helping me fine tune a couple of the big scenes, and never once doubting that I was good enough to tackle it.   
> To Patt, for never once letting me forget how good she thinks I am (love you too, girl) and helping me to believe it too.  
> To Patt and Lisa both, for always being there for me and not letting me give up on this, even when I had fifteen things going on at once. This has not been an easy story to write by any means, and both Patt and Lisa have been instrumental in helping me keep my sanity and not getting caught up in the pain and the horror of the story. I can't thank either of them enough.

~~~~~~ 

_Shoah is the Jewish word for the Holocaust._

This AU occurs during the Holocaust, so there will be disturbing subject matter. This takes place in a fictitious camp based on characteristics of Dachau, Auschwitz, and Birkenau. The events were taken from true accounts of the atrocities at all three sites. Jim and Blair owies, and character deaths (though not J/B) along with possible disturbing imagery. 

~~~~~~ 

"Aldete." 

"Ja." 

"Barone." 

"Ja." 

"Dych." 

"Ja." 

"Ellison." 

"Ja." 

The officer calling roll droned on, but Lieutenant James Ellison tuned him out and listened to the rest of the roll call with one ear only. The other ear listened for problems in the stalags. He heard none, and that suited him. As a member of Hitler's elite corps, Lt. Ellison was to receive his own stalag today, after roll call. The thought did not please Jim so much as it frightened him. 

As lieutenant of the stalag, Jim Ellison--chosen for his blue eyes, solid build, and quietly assertive demeanor--knew he would be personally responsible for hundreds of deaths. And he was not at all sure he could live with that responsibility. But that responsibility had been the sole reason of his transfer here, after his... problems arose. 

"Heil, Lieutenant Ellison." Commandant Oliver stood before him. 

" _Sieg Heil, mein Komandant,_ " Jim replied, returning the stiff-armed salute. 

"I am... pleased to see you treating this occasion with the proper respect and solemnity," said the Commandant. "Other officers have not. I am gratified to see our faith in you was not misplaced, Herr Ellison." Oliver finished, and he waited expectantly. 

"I endeavor to excel, Commandant. I will see to it that your faith in me has not been misplaced." Jim knew that the sarcasm lacing those words in his mind had not come out through his mouth, though he wished it could have. 

"Excellent." The Commandant seemed pleased with Ellison's flowery words. "Come with me. I shall be honored to conduct you to your new command." He paused a beat. "Captain." 

"Sir?" Jim asked, uncertainly. 

"You have been promoted, _Kapitan_ Ellison, in keeping with your new position. Your uniforms are waiting for you in the stalag and your effects will be collected from the barracks and sent to your new quarters." Oliver sent Ellison a sidelong glance. "I trust we will have no further episodes?" 

"The fever is gone," Jim replied. Several months ago, the lieutenant had been cut off on patrol, and returned a week later, feverish and hallucinatory. The sensory hallucinations he'd experienced had been logged into his medical records as symptoms of the fever, and Jim preferred for that to remain the official story. Unfortunately, his senses didn't seem to agree with him. They remained heightened long after the fever had passed, and he remained silent about them. 

Commandant Oliver looked at Jim, aware that the newly-promoted captain had neatly dodged the question. "We shall see," was Oliver's answer. He stopped outside a small building with the number 22 stenciled on the cinderblocks. "Welcome to Stalag 22." 

* * * * * 

"...Reston, Rusburg, Sackton, Sandburg, Steinman." The young sergeant snapped the clipboard shut over the sheets of paper. "You will all be assigned to Stalag 22, under the auspices of Captain Ellison. You will first be taken to the showers where you will strip and be cleaned, and afterwards will be issued new attire and taken to your stalag to await disposition orders. If you disobey the smallest command, you will be shot on sight." The sergeant aimed into the crowd and fired once. A body fell, and the gun was holstered. "Move out." 

One pair of bright blue eyes scanned over the other men in the group, and full lips curved in disgust. "Won't you even say a prayer for him?" demanded the young Jew. He knelt beside the fallen man's body and began to pray in Hebrew. 

The sergeant roughly jerked the young man to his feet. "What is your number?" 

The Jew ignored the soldier, kneeling again beside his fallen comrade, continuing the Hebrew prayer as the gun was pressed against his temple. 

As this scene was occurring, Captain Ellison entered the front of the room to get his first look at his charges. _Haflinge,_ his mind echoed, repeating the word that had been beaten into him, and he discarded it. _These are **men** ,_ he emphasized to himself. _Thirty lives to be responsible for; I do not believe them inferior merely because they are Jews._ Jim was careful to keep his thoughts to himself, well aware his thoughts were treason and could end in his own hanging. 

The sergeant tapped the praying Jew in the temple with the gun. "On your feet, Jew, what is your number?" 

"Stop!" Both Jew and soldier looked up as the commanding voice rang out. The sergeant dropped the clipboard as he saluted the other officer. "Sergeant, you are dismissed." 

" _Jawohl, mein Kapitan._ " The sergeant saluted briefly and then exited, his jackboots echoing in the halls. 

"Finish your prayer, but quickly," Jim admonished softly, bending to retrieve the dropped clipboard. "The rest of you, line up against the wall. I want your numbers first, and then your names." He collected the information on the proper forms, and then turned and extended a hand to the young man. 

The young man slapped away the Nazi hand, and was surprised to see it quietly return without threat or rebuke. Reluctantly, he slipped his hand into the soldier's and found himself pulled effortlessly to his feet. "Number and name?" Jim asked softly. 

"I am **not** a number. My **name** is Blair Sandburg." 

"Captain James Ellison. You're going to be under my auspices until... disposition." The word was uncomfortable in his mouth. "Do as you are told and your lives will be as comfortable as the situation allows." He looked at the young man--Sandburg--still standing beside him. "Sandburg here will be my _kapo._ Problems go through him, he brings them to me, we resolve them. They go nowhere else, or they could get you shot." 

At that pronouncement, there was a quiet murmur that rippled through the group. Sandburg was the only one to speak. "Hey, Ellison! Why me? And what if I don't want the job?" 

"Why you is because you had the balls to stand up to the sergeant and pray for your friend's soul with a gun to your head. As for the other... what you want no longer matters. You are prisoners of the Third Reich." 

"Then you might as well shoot me now, Captain, because I will not be a part of the extermination of my people simply because you madmen deem us a threat!" 

Ellison opened his mouth to reprimand Sandburg for his shouted words but heard the rhythm of a squad of jackbooted soldiers. "Sandburg, if you value your life and the lives of the thirty men with you, get in line and for the love of God shut up." Quickly, Ellison drew his sidearm and fired a second shot into the dead man. 

Sandburg did as he was told, joining the line against the wall and flinching as the second shot was fired. 

Three guards exploded into the room as Jim holstered his sidearm. " _Kapitan?_ " 

"Sieg heil, comrades. All is well here--dispose of that." He nudged the dead body with his boot. 

"We heard raised voices," the head guard said, running an eye over the slightly cowering group. 

Jim kicked again at the dead body. "Yes, this one--shot once already as an example--thought that he could cause a bit of trouble, incite the others. I put him out of my misery." He forced a smile that did not reach his eyes, but Sandburg was the only one to notice. 

* * * * * 

After the last close call with the guards, Jim wanted his charges in the stalag as soon as possible. "Anything--personal effects, whatever--that you don't want confiscated, give them to me as you leave. They'll be returned to you after the showers, you have my word." Jim accepted watches, photos, and letters, secreting them away in his uniform pockets. 

Sandburg was last out, and he passed Jim a faded photograph of a woman and himself. "I will kill you if anything happens to her," Blair said softly. 

Jim flipped it over and read the inscription. 'To my darling Blair. Love, Mom.' _His mother. I will take care of you, Mrs. Sandburg._

Jim led the group to the shower building. "It will only allow for ten at a time," Jim explained. "After the shower you will be taken to the barber for haircuts and shaves." At that pronouncement, Blair reflexively covered his hair. A leftover from his attempt at Orthodoxy, the curly hair was an eccentricity he'd grown fond of. Though if having his hair shorn meant he would live, he would gladly see the curly locks on the floor. Seeing Sandburg's reaction, Jim promised the picture of Mrs. Sandburg that he would try and protect her son. He silently made that promise to every photograph he concealed. "After the barber, to the stalag." 

The line approached the plain building that housed the showers. He stopped at the door and counted off the first ten to enter the shower. The others remained silent, standing and waiting their turns. 

Jim's ears and nose alerted him of danger before he realized what was happening. The hissing noise instead of the whoosh of water and the stink of almonds shocked him. _Oh my God, they're being gassed!_ " **Stay!** " he barked, tearing open the side door and charging into the control room, but even as he confronted the operator he knew it was too late. Of the ten heartbeats, none were left. "You fool!" Jim raged in German. "Those were fresh men and strong backs! If you want to gas, gas those can no longer work, not those who are fresh!" Tears stung at his eyes and he fought them back, as he did the rising nausea at the overwhelming stink of the gas. 

" _Kapitan,_ I know to do nothing else! I was posted here and told to use gas pellets instead of water." 

"By whose command?" 

"Commandant Oliver." 

"I am using my authority as a stalag commander. I want no gas used on the men I bring in here unless I personally and explicitly order it, is that understood?" 

"But Commandant Oliver--" 

"Will speak directly with me if there is a problem with my orders," Jim said coldly. "Do you understand." 

" _Ja, Kapitan._ " 

"Then have these men removed." Ellison didn't wait for the dissipation of the gas, nor for the removal of hair and teeth, instead turning sharply on his heel and leaving. Sandburg and the others waited expectantly. Jim was unable to meet Sandburg's gaze, and but did remember to switch back to English. "I am sorry. They were using gas instead of water. I was not fast enough; they are dead." 

The remaining men shared glances of distrust and distress, and then turned their accusatory glares to Jim. Surprisingly, it was Sandburg that stepped between Jim and the others. "He is trying to help!" Blair hissed. "We all knew the policies of the Reich! Captain Ellison is putting his life at risk by even holding our personal effects for us. You heard the argument--it was certainly loud enough--and you all acknowledged how angry and upset the captain was! I don't believe any of us will leave this place alive, but I do believe Captain Ellison will protect us as much as he is able." Then Sandburg fell silent as he stared at Jim. 

Jim finally looked up and met his defender's intense scrutiny. "I will do all I am able. I will take you elsewhere to clean up; this building is obviously not safe. On my authority, you will be protected." Jim looked over at Blair. "Thank you." 

Blair spat at Jim's feet. "Don't flatter yourself, Captain. What I said, I said for the benefit of my people. We are dependant on your goodwill. I do believe you regret the deaths of those men, but for what reason, I know not. For myself, I do not trust you." 

"Your candor is appreciated, Mr. Sandburg. Allow me to return it. I am German but I do not hold with all the ideas and ideals of the Reich. I had friends marked and taken during _Kristalnacht._ I was chosen for the Reich not for my abilities but because I fit the Furher's ideal of uber-man. I was not asked if I wished this life-it was thrust upon me. I wanted no deaths on my conscience and already I am responsible for ten. You do not deserve this fate. I cannot promise that you will not meet it; I cam promise to do my utmost to mitigate things as long as I can." 

"Forgive me if I doubt your intentions, Captain," Blair said quietly. "Too many of my people have been killed in the name of your Furher for trust to come so easily on so few words." Blair turned and followed the rest towards the other gray block building. Before any man entered, Jim went in first and searched the building, verifying that it was indeed what he had suspected, only showers. He walked his charges in, reassuring them as best he could. Skyrocketing heartbeats did nothing to reassure him. 

Jim walked around to the back of the showers, and watched as the first group came out and dressed in camp-issued gray clothing. Jim lined them up and stood there, quietly awaiting the second group. He cast a critical eye over the group, and his attention was caught by a heartbeat that did not sound right. "Steinman. Over here please. I would like to speak with you." 

Fearfully the man walked over. "Yes, sir?" 

"What is your name?" 

"Roald Steinman, sir." 

"Roald--how bad is your heart?" 

The man's eyes widened in shock. "How did you know?" 

"That isn't important. What is important is my finding out how badly you ail." 

"My doctor has told me it is only a few years at most before it fails me entirely. It pains me some now and then." 

Jim considered. "You will be made responsible for the laundry. Select a younger back to help you." Jim consciously lowered his voice. "It is the simplest--and least labor-intensive--position that I can assign you to. I cannot get you medication, though. I am sorry." 

Roald nodded. "I understand, Captain Ellison. I think Mr. Sandburg was right; we all have to make the best of this situation. Everything considered, you are a considerate jailer and we appreciate all that you do." The Jewish man moved back into line, nodding at Sandburg as the other man looked worriedly at him. 

Blair changed direction and headed towards Ellison. "Captain, can I ask just what you needed with Roald?" 

"You can but not here--too many eyes." Jim lined everyone up and started marching them towards the barber. "Bide your time, Herr Sandburg. We shall speak soon." Blair kept his eyes on the Kapitan, but said nothing. 

Jim stood in the back of the barbering area, watching with a critical eye as things were done quickly and efficiently. Then when Blair came up, Jim barked out a single German word. " _Gebieterin._ " [[Mistress.]] 

" _einhundertfunfunsiebzig?_ " [[175?--A designation used by the Nazi regime to indicate homosexuality.]] 

" _Notwendigkeit_ " [[A necessity.]] 

Blair's head bounced back and forth from Jim to the barber and back, trying to follow the conversation. _Gebieterin,_ he recognized, and fought hard not to show his anger at being referred to as Jim's mistress. The translation of the numbers meant nothing to him, but then Jim called him a necessity. "Kapitan?" he asked softly, but venomously. 

"Silence." Jim's voice was cold, not to be disobeyed, and Blair surprised even himself by shutting up. Then he looked back at the barber. " _Er ist mein._ " [[He is mine.]] 

The barber sneered as he started cutting, but making sure that skin was not nicked and that there were no lice eggs in the small amount of hair that remained. Then he shoved Blair out of the chair, towards Jim. " _Arschficker._ " [[Assfucker.]] 

Jim caught Blair before he went sprawling to the dirt and righted him before releasing him. Blair left with the others, and Jim looked at the barber. " _Bleibt im Vertrauen._ " [[This stays between us.]] He deliberately took one of the thin leather strops from the table and put it in his pocket. 

" _Ganz wie Sie wollen._ " [[Just as you like.]] He shrugged as the Kapitan took the sharpening strop. 

Jim turned on his heel and joined the other men outside the barber's building. Wordlessly he passed the strop to Blair, along with a handful of curls he'd been able to retrieve without being seen. " _Danke,_ " Blair said, binding the hair with the strop. [[Thank you.]] 

" _Keine Ursache,_ " Jim answered without thinking. [[You're welcome.]] Silently, he led the way to the stalag and ushered the men in. Blair, as always, was at the rear of the line, and Jim stopped him, switching to English, a language they all had in common. "This belongs to you," he said, passing him back the photograph of Naomi. 

Blair studied the photograph for a long moment. "Thank you." 

"You're welcome," Jim said again. He tried to push Blair into the barracks, but Blair didn't move. "What?" 

"Just because you do these things for me, that does not mean I will fall in your bed in gratitude." 

For a moment Jim was shocked, and then he realized. "I didn't know you could speak German." 

"I've had to learn." 

"I don't expect you to fall anywhere, Sandburg. I promised your mother that I would protect you. I will say what I must to make that happen." 

Blair tucked the picture into his shirt, and his face hardened. "My mother and I were separated as we were loaded to be brought here, Kapitan. Don't mention her again." He turned away from the captain and walked into the barracks. Jim emptied his pockets of the men's personal effects, and put them into a box, which he passed around. When the box had finished its rounds, Blair silently sat it back on Jim's desk. All that remained were the possessions of the dead men. Covering them in a piece of cloth ripped from his sheet, Jim put the box in the bottom of his locker, and sighed. 

Work details and other forms still sat on his desk to be filled out, and Jim went to work on them. 

Finally, he studied the end result. The work schedule was heavy, many of the jobs unpleasant, but had gone as lightly on his men as possible. Blair's duties as kapo would give him almost free reign of the camp while still keeping him under Jim's watchful eye. That would raise questions but questions Jim could deal with. He laid down the pen he'd been writing with and rubbed his eyes. The headaches were returning now, and he opened the drawer of the desk, pulling out the bottle of tablets more by feel than sight and swallowed two, sight unseen. _What is wrong with me?_ He heard a heartbeat in the doorway, heard breathing, and recognized it as belonging to Sandburg. 

Blair stood in the doorway, watching the German soldier write in almost absolute darkness, then fumble for pills and swallow two without water. He took a step forward, and was shocked to hear his name come from the captain's desk. "Go back to your bunk, Sandburg. You can look at the detail list tomorrow, that's when I'll post it. Go to bed. I'll wake you up for supper tonight." Then he looked at Blair. "When was the last time that you ate?" 

"Two mornings ago." 

Jim sighed. "Go back to your bunk, Sandburg. If anyone comes in, tell them I have stepped out and will be back shortly." 

"Yes, Captain." Blair watched as the captain rose from his desk and walked out of the bunk, heading towards the dinner hall. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

"You! Kapitan Ellison!" 

Jim froze when he heard the Commandant's voice. He held the rucksack tightly in his hand as his superior officer approached. "Kapitan, might I ask what you are doing, away from your post?" 

"I went for food." 

The Commandant poked the bag with the tip of his baton. "There is more than enough food in the bag to feed you for a week." 

"I have been missing meals lately. I took enough to keep in case I missed further." 

The baton came up and lifted Jim's chin as the Commandant's eyes glittered. "This is a transgression that cannot be allowed, Kapitan." He moved the baton and then jerked the bag of bread, cheese, dried meat and fruit out of Ellison's hands and snapped his fingers. Two officers bearing the dual lightning jags of the SS took hold of each of Ellison's arms, and dragged him to the middle of the camp. Jim set his jaw, knowing what was coming as his uniform jacket and shirt were stripped from him. In the shadow of the stalag, he saw Blair and the others gathering around the door, and he locked his eyes on the blue orbs of his _kapo._

Blair shivered as he saw the Commandant rolling up his sleeves and accepting a cat-o-nine tails from yet a third SS officer, and then he felt Jim's eyes on his. He met the unflinching cobalt gaze as the first blow was struck on the captain's bared back. Blair recoiled as each successive lash was laid across first welted and then bloody skin as Jim made no sound, locked in position. 

Jim's jaw ached from being gritted so tightly, his neck corded in an effort to contain the pain, his throat almost bursting from holding the screams in. He'd lost count of the strokes after the first twenty, but Blair hadn't. His eyes silvered at first and then streamed with the tears that Jim was not shedding. _Please cry out. Make them stop this,_ Blair thought, horrified as he could not stop counting. Jim made no sound, only staring at Blair throughout the entire ordeal. The young Jew shivered under the intense regard of the German captain. 

The beating stopped at fifty, and Blair thought for sure that Jim was unconscious. Instead he turned, stiffly and slowly, and raised one arm in salute to Commandant Oliver. "Heil," he bit out, through his gritted teeth, forcing back the scream of pain that the simple raised arm caused. Lowering his arm, he collected the shirt and jacket to his uniform and made his way through the camp, still stonily silent. 

The remaining men in his stalag scattered from the door, and Jim slammed it shut before sagging onto it. He moved immediately, and left a criss-cross of blood on the door as he moved towards the large bunk that was his bed. Blair moved forward, but was stopped in his tracks by Jim's eyes. They were hard and cold with unshed tears and unvoiced pain. In that moment, Blair's heart ached for the captain and he realized with a pang that this man truly meant them no harm. He helped guide the beaten man to his bed as two more moved forward to scrub the captain's blood from the wall. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

At dinner that night, the others in Jim's stalag ate silently and quickly, risking beatings of their own by saving the bread that was given to them for Jim. Blair met each man at the door, surprised by the chunks of bread that were handed to him. "For the Captain," Roald whispered. "For he tried to do the same for us." Blair nodded his thanks, hurrying the men inside before their act of kindness could be discovered. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

When darkness had fallen over the camp, Blair waited for the others in the stalag to be asleep before passing through the doorway that separated Jim's bunk and office from their quarters. Jim was still lying on the bunk, his back exposed to the air, but his face was wet now with silent tears. 

Jim heard the light footsteps behind him, but lacked the energy to turn around. "Sandburg, get back to bed." 

"I can't do that, Captain." 

"Get back to bed before you are discovered." 

Blair brought a wrapped bundle into Jim's view. "This is from the others." Blair unwrapped it and showed Jim the chunks of bread. "They know you could not go, and Roald had them bring you food back." 

Jim was touched. "I will be ill," he admitted. "If I tried to eat, it would return violently." 

Blair looked over. "Where is there fresh water?" 

"In the outside barrel. It rained three days ago, it should be full." 

"I will return." Blair bent and picked up the water bucket from behind the wood stove in the stalag. He carried it out to the rain barrel and dipped a bucket full of the clean, cold water, and struggled to carry it back inside. He set the bucket on the floor beside Jim. "Can you move?" 

"Why?" 

"You need tending, Captain." 

"No." 

"I will not harm you, Captain. I wish only to tend you." 

"No." 

"Then I will do it here." 

Jim hissed sharply as he rolled out of the way, pulling himself from Sandburg's reach. "Return to bed, Sandburg." 

"If you do not trust me, then why make me your _kapo?_ " He sat on the ground beside Jim's bunk and waited for the answer. 

"I trust you. But you do not need the SS coming and inspecting this place, which will happen if I am tended to. It is known that I did not report to the medic. If I appear outside these walls with my wounds dressed, that brings many questions I would rather not answer." 

Blair was surprised to hear that. That had not been the excuse he was expecting. "You are willing to risk infection, sickness, and death to avoid questions?" 

Jim sighed. "Yes. Because here, in the camps, questions mean deaths. I would not have your death, nor the deaths of your remaining friends, on my head because I could not take a few lashes." 

Blair blinked. "You would rather die yourself than have us die for you," he said, as if the realization had just come to him. 

"Yes," came the reply, accompanied by an explosive sigh. 

"Not this time, Captain." Blair looked around the room, and when he could find nothing else, he moved to rip a square out of his shirt, and found the Captain's hand wrapped firmly around his wrist. 

"Do not. If you are intent on doing this, go to the locker and open it. You will see the medical kit in there, bring it out. There should be cloths and gauze in it." 

Blair did as he was told and found the cleaning cloths as well as salve and bandages. "I need more light, Captain." 

"Turn on the lamp, but put it on the floor so it is not seen." 

Blair did so, and could not help the gasp as he saw Jim's back. Angry bloody gashes criss-crossed over each other, still oozing. There seemed to be not an inch of his skin spared from the lash. "Oh, James." The captain's first name slipped out in his distress. "How... how did you not cry out?" 

Jim shrugged as he heard a cloth being dipped in the water, and steeled himself for the cold touch. "There are things that must be borne." He bit his lip as the cold water hit one of the open wounds, stinging. Blair's lips pursed and immediately blew a soothing breath over the sting. He remained silent, focused on the young man's pounding heartbeat and hitching breath. 

As he cleaned the wounds, Blair realized that for the second time in his life, he truly knew what the term heartsick meant. This man, this German, who so obviously did not belong in the military camps, had borne incredible punishment for trying to perform a simple act of human kindness. "Would you do it again, knowing the consequences?" 

"Yes," Jim answered, without hesitation. "Starving a man is not the way to treat him. If you were hungry, I would bring you food." Jim wasn't sure if he meant a single you or a you that encompassed all the men, but it didn't matter. 

"Why have you not left?" Blair continued cleaning, the water in the bucket stained as red as the blood slowly trickling from the lashes on Jim's back. "You clearly do not believe in the Reich." 

"No. I don't believe in the ideals of the Reich. I believe that every man is equal and has the right to live and not be judged on the version of God he worships. But this is the life that has been chosen for me, and it's the one that I must live." 

_In another existence, I think we would be friends,_ Blair thought to himself. "You should be able to choose your own way." 

"As you should, Sandburg, but sometimes things are chosen for us and we have to roll with it. If we are lucky, we find a reason." Jim had turned his head to look at Blair, who met the now-softened eyes head on. 

"If we are lucky," Sandburg echoed as he finished cleaning the horrible wounds inflicted on the captain's back. More silence during which Blair anointed the wounds with salve to prevent the bandages from sticking to them, and then with infinite care and tenderness bandaged the worst of the cuts. Then he passed a bottle of tablets with a German label to Jim. "This is aspirin, isn't it?" 

"Yes," he answered, passing the bottle back. Blair shook out two of the tablets which Jim swallowed dry. "Go back to sleep now, Sandburg." 

He rose from his crouched position and doused the lamp. "Goodnight, Captain." 

"Goodnight, Sandburg." 

~ * ~ * ~ 

The next morning found Jim standing at attention with the other captains for morning roll call. Glances were thrown his way but he said nothing as he went about his usual business, with few flinches or shifting to accommodate his injuries. He returned to his office after roll call, making the stale chunks of bread from last night his breakfast as his men ate, and returned to the barracks to pick up their work assignments, all under the watchful eye of the kapo. 

Blair helped each man find his assignment for the day and got them moving on it, and then consulted his own assignment. 'See me for your assignment, Sandburg' had been scrawled at the bottom of the schedule, and he stood at attention at the captain's desk until Jim looked up. "Sandburg. Take these forms to the Commandant's office. He will want to see them before they go on record." 

Blair scanned the forms written in German. A few words stood out to him here and there. What caught his eye: _auf der Suche nach Staatsgefangenen._ [[Literally: A Search of State Prisoners]] _A prisoner search?_ Scanning further down, he found this: _Sandburg, Naomi, die Haupt des Staatsfegangenen Sandburg, Blair, ubergeben Vernichtungslager._ [[Naomi Sandburg, mother of prisoner Blair Sandburg, for transfer to this extermination camp.]] 

Blair slammed down the paper on Jim's desk. "What is the meaning of this?" 

Jim looked down at the transfer request, wincing at the slam of hand on wood. "If your mother hasn't been killed already, I'm asking that she be sent to this camp. She won't be under my direct control, but I will be able to buy her protection." 

"With what? I know money is of no use in places like this." 

Jim leveled his gaze at Blair. "Do you really want to know, Herr Sandburg?" 

Something in Jim's eyes told Blair that no, he did not want to know. He had dark suspicions already. "No." 

"Then I will let you know what I find out." 

"Thank you, Captain." 

"Don't thank me yet, Sandburg." He laid his aching head on the desk. "Nothing has happened yet." 

Blair found himself feeling sympathy towards the obviously ailing German officer. "James?" he asked softly, daring to use the captain's first name. 

"Yes?" Jim didn't even raise his head at his given name, though hearing it spoken after so long made him feel warm inside. 

"Are you all right?" 

"As well as I can be under the circumstances." 

"Your back?" Jim just shook his head. "Then what is it?" 

"A headache." 

"Doesn't the aspirin help?" 

"Nothing helps anymore." 

Another wave of sympathy swelled in Blair's chest. "Captain... we all know the risk you are taking and the sacrifice you are making for us. If it helps, we don't blame you." 

At that, Jim did raise his eyes and look at Blair. "That's good to hear, Chief... but I happen to blame myself." 

Blair didn't know what to say, instead carefully placing his hand on Jim's shoulder, wary of his reaction. Jim sighed once, shifting slightly to bring the hand on his shoulder away from one of the lash marks, otherwise accepting the silent comfort that the prisoner offered him. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

Several days later, in the middle of the night, Jim woke Blair with a hand over his lips, pleading for silence. He dropped a telegram into Blair's hand and closed the young man's fingers around it, then departed back to his bed. 

Blair waited for Jim to be gone, and held the telegram up to the moonlight. It was written in German, but Jim had scrawled a translation for him at the bottom. _Transfer approved. Prisoner will be arriving end of week._ Blair blinked away tears as he pulled out the picture of his mother. _I'll see you soon, Mother... somehow I know... James will keep you safe. Just like he's keeping us safe._

~ * ~ * ~ 

At the end of the week, Jim had made sure that Blair understood that he could not act as though he knew Naomi. It could be deadly for all three of them. That being understood, Jim allowed Blair to have escort duty--as kapo it was Blair's job, after all, to help Jim catalogue his paperwork and for the transfer, there were many papers that required signatures, and Blair knew what they were and whose signatures they'd require. 

As a result, Blair was standing behind Jim, a clipboard full of papers in his sweating hands as he strained to catch a glimpse of familiar red hair. A small train pulled up to the loading area and boxcars full of people were unloaded until finally, in the last car, came a woman with closely shorn red hair. Jim clenched his jaw at Blair's intake of breath, and turned to examine the woman himself as she moved towards them. Naomi was skeletal, and Jim could smell the sickening stench of the radioactive chemicals injected into her womb. 

Blair almost cried when he saw his mother. After only a month, the camps had taken their toll on her. Her skin pallor was almost waxen white, her eyes still bright, but lost until they set upon her son. She was chained at the wrist and the ankle, and she looked so terribly frail... just like every other person here. Her hair had been shorn close to her skull, almost totally shaved. Her graceful limbs were nothing but sticks, her figure all but gone. Their eyes met, and a single tear did escape Blair's eye as her eyes shone when they saw him, then started doing their own inventory of his sad shape. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

Naomi didn't understand why she'd been put on the train and brought to a different camp, but she had lost the will to resist after being separated from Blair. She did nothing, said nothing, during the long ride across the countryside and moved only when prodded by the soldier escorting her. 

Then she saw Blair standing to the side of a German captain. He was trying so hard not to acknowledge her, and so she did the same, only looking at him. He looked so much older. His cheeks were sunken and hollow, with two days of stubble on his face. His body was starved and lean, the musculature he'd worked hard to maintain gone completely. His hair, what remained of it, was lank and dirty. His eyes were older--not dancing as she was used to seeing them, but so still, so old, having seen more than any human being should. He was shaky on his feet, but Naomi knew it was because of her, and not due to anything else. Her son's skin was dirty, but she saw in his eyes that somehow his soul was not. Blair had not lost hope, and until he had, she knew he would not be broken. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

Blair forced himself to walk calmly over to the man escorting her, and offered the clipboards. "Uberschreibend, bitte." [[Sign her over, please]] 

The solider growled something in German and signed the papers with a scribble, and then shoved the clipboard and Naomi at Blair. "Fortschaffen." [[Take her away.]] Then he looked Jim up and down and smiled, once. 

Blair caught the look that passed from the soldier to Jim, and shivered at the look of resignation on Jim's face as they disappeared around the train together. 

"Sweetie?" Naomi whispered. "Sweetie, is that you?" 

"Not now, Mom, come on," he said, hurrying her along to the safe showers. "I have to take these papers back to the captain's office, but I will be right back. I promise you." He darted out of the barracks, and looked around for the officer, but he was nowhere to be seen, and met Naomi as she emerged from the shower. "We have to wait here for Captain Ellison." 

Naomi shivered. "He's the one that wanted me brought here," she said with a faint tone of disgust. 

"He's in charge of my group, Mom. He brought you here so I could see you. He won't let anything happen to you, I promise." He looked around the work yard and risked a brief squeeze of her hand. He wanted to hug her and cry. She looked so tired, so frail. So sick. Ways Blair had never before imagined his mother looking, and it was breaking his heart. "I'll try and find a way to tell you about him." The mention of James' name in their conversation brought a feeling of trust that Blair had not thought to experience in this horrible place, and the young man clutched it to himself tightly as he sat with his mother. 

They sat together a few moments more, exchanging whispers until a shadow fell over them both. Blair felt a stab of terror until he recognized Jim. The officer was finishing buttoning himself up when the soldier who had brought Naomi breezed behind him and whispered a single word. " _Hure._ " [[whore]] 

" _Nachste Wokenende,_ " Jim barked bitterly. [[Next weekend]] The terror inside Blair that had ebbed away returned as Jim refused to meet his eyes after speaking. "Come with me," he said in English. "You will be safe in the barracks for a time, then she must go." 

"That man... will he be the one in charge of Naomi?" 

"Yes. The deal has been made. She will be safe." 

_What have you done, James? What have you done?_

~ * ~ * ~ 

In the barracks, Jim had waited in his small office as Blair and Naomi had clung to each other, crying and talking softly, sharing horror stories as to the things that had happened to each other. In the end, though, the time had been too short and Jim had been forced to send Naomi to her stalag, and to her captain and kapo. 

After she was gone, Blair looked at Jim. "What deal did you make, James?" 

"One that is best not spoken of." 

The feeling in the pit of his stomach grew. "What did he call you? Why did he call you a whore?" Jim leveled a stare at the young Jewish man until he flinched. "Oh dear God," Blair whispered, horrified. "I thought... I thought you would be asking it of me." 

"No. I told you the day you came here, I would not." Jim turned his gaze from Blair's. "And I still will not." 

Blair took a deep breath. "And if I offered it?" 

Jim shook his head. "I would not take it. The deal was mine to make, Sandburg." 

"My name is Blair." 

"I know, Blair. The deal was mine to make, and I made it. Let that be the end of it." 

"And what did you say to him?" Blair asked, narrowing his eyes. "You said something to him that I didn't understand." 

" _Nachste Wokenende._ Next weekend." 

Blair sickened further. "It will never stop, will it?" he asked, the nature of the deal Jim had made--for his sake--suddenly all too clear. 

"Not for as long as she is under my protection." Blair fled, violently ill at the thought of the man he'd come to think of as friend whoring for his sake. Jim followed and found him leaning against the side wall of the barracks. The tang of fresh vomit stung Jim's nose as he helped Blair back inside. "Rest. I have work to do." 

~ * ~ * ~ 

Jim had been absorbed in his work for several hours and Blair had fallen into a troubled sleep when a banging on the door of the barracks shook them both. "Kapitan! You must hurry, they are going to take him apart!" 

Jim's eyes flew back to Blair to reassure himself the man was still there. Jim threw the door open to look into the frightened face of one of his other charges. "What is going on?" 

"At the laundry, Roald--his heart! They want to cut him open and look at him!" The man--Sackton, his name was--panted as he delivered the panicked message. 

Jim cursed and ran for the laundry, Blair on his heels. Between the determination he radiated and his rank, most cleared the way for him as he followed the sound of the commotion to its source. Naomi had obviously been sent to the laundry to work as well, because she was being held against the wall at gunpoint by soldiers as they waited for the doctor to come. Roald was dead, his heart having finally given out on him, and he was sprawled on the floor where he'd fallen. "What's going on here?" 

"He died while we were working," Naomi said. 

The soldier holding the gun moved to strike her for speaking, and Jim sprinted across the space and stopped him. "I asked what happened." He looked at Naomi. "Please, continue." 

"He had complained about a tightness in his chest earlier in the day and the guard hit him, told him to shut up and keep working. Then just a few minutes ago... he slumped over in his seat and then fell onto the ground. When they found out he was dead they went to get the doctors, and the doctors want to dissect the body." 

Jim looked over at Blair, who was turning paler at the mention of the body's dissection. "Sandburg. You and... you," he said, pointing to another man at random. "Take the body to the crematorium." 

Naomi briefly locked eyes with her son as he moved to help pick up the body of their friend. The body was wasted away to almost nothing, and Jim had no doubt that Blair could have carried the corpse alone but was loathe to have him do so. 

He watched as the body was taken off and then turned to the others. "Get back to work. We'll send someone to take his place." Then he turned and pointed to Naomi. "Bring her to my office. I'll need a full report since he was in my charge." He turned and walked out of the room, and headed back towards his office. As he waited for Naomi to be brought to him, he stepped outside and lit a cigarette, a habit he rarely indulged because ever since his "incident," the smoke and the taste almost made him sick. But he needed an excuse to be outside, watching, when Blair and the other man exited the crematorium. 

He saw the young man exit first, and even across the yard, he could see every detail. Blair's hands were clenched in fists, his jaw clenched tightly shut as he seemed to be forcing himself to walk towards the stalag. The closer he drew, Jim could see his body covered with a fine sheen of gray ash from the bodies being burnt. He came to a halt in front of Jim, and lifted his eyes to the captain. As soon as he did, Jim almost choked on the horror and despair that swam in the blue orbs. Blair opened his mouth to speak but no words came out; a single tear spoke for him, sliding down his gray cheek and washing away a tiny track of the death that settled over him. As the tear fell off his chin and onto the hard dirt floor of the yard, Jim could almost hear the shattering of the small core of hope and innocence that the young man had clung to. "Get out of here and take a shower, Sandburg, you stink." He had to choke the words out, and Blair nodded once in grateful acknowledgement. Blair raised his hands to his face, and they were trembling. He looked up at the captain with a single question written over his face; why? Jim shook his head; he had no answer to give. "I said, get to the showers." 

Blair walked off mechanically towards the showers, pausing only once as his mother walked by him. He looked at her once, and she shuddered at the hollowness she saw in his eyes. Then with that bare acknowledgement, that took under a second, they passed by each other, Blair on the way to the shower, and Naomi to see Jim. After a brief hassle with the guard, Jim and Naomi were left alone, to wait for Blair. 

"Captain, why did you have me brought here?" 

"For Blair's sake. I can't do much for the people here but I could see to it that you are protected for his sake." 

"I see," she said softly. "I don't believe you. The papers said that he and I were to be experimented on together." 

"Yes, that is what the papers said. And that's the only way that I could obtain the transfer." 

"Is it true that you took a beating for my son?" 

"I took a beating for all the men in the barracks," Jim corrected. "They hadn't eaten in several days; I'd gone to the dining hall to get food for them and got caught." 

"Blair said you were whipped fifty lashes." 

"Yes." 

She sat back on the uncomfortable wooden stool, studying Jim. "I will have to wait and see." 

Jim nodded and went back to his paperwork. They sat in silence for almost twenty minutes, and then Blair entered the barracks. Naomi moved immediately to his side and guided him to sit on the stool and she crouched beside him. "Blair?" 

"Yes?" 

"Are you all right?" 

"No, Mother. I'm not all right. I don't think I'll ever be all right again. I won't forget the smell, the sounds, some of the people going into the fires not even dead yet." He shuddered once. Naomi wrapped her thin arms around him, and he didn't move as she hugged him. "I'll never be the same again." 

Jim said nothing, instead shuffling through paperwork on his desk as the dry-eyed young man whispered comfortingly to his mother. Too soon, though, it was time for Naomi to leave again, and Blair walked her to the door and turned her over to the guard waiting there. Jim looked up at him and asked him the same question Naomi had asked him earlier. "Are you all right?" 

Blair just shook his head. "No, James. I'm not okay." 

"Blair." 

"I know, Captain. It's all right." 

"You want something to help you sleep? I'll go to the dispensary and get it for myself and bring it back to you." 

"No. I just need to be alone." 

"I'll be out here." 

"How's your back?" 

"Doesn't hurt anymore. Thank you." 

"You're welcome, James." Blair went to lay in the bunks, and Jim worked until it got dark. As the others filed in from dinner, Jim realized that Blair hadn't stirred. He watched as the others lay down and still Blair didn't move. Jim settled into his bunk to sleep, still slightly favoring his back, and fell into a light sleep. 

He was still sleeping lightly several hours later when a noise from Blair's bunk awoke him. At first he thought it was a soft crying, but as he drew closer and knelt beside the lower bunk where he slept, the cries became words. Words that made no sense, and Jim shook him lightly, waking him. "Blair. Sandburg, wake up." 

Blair jolted slightly, glad the bunk over him was empty as he looked wildly around, the double-bed structure shaking. "James." 

"Yes, it's me," Jim said softly. He barely resisted the urge to stroke Blair's cheek as he trembled. "You were having a bad dream. You woke me." 

"I'm sorry." 

"Don't be." He drew Blair up into a sitting position, and crouched beside him. "You want to walk it off?" 

Blair shook his head. "No." 

"How about talking about it?" 

"Okay." 

Mindful of the others around them, Jim drew Blair into the small office where his desk and bunk were and set him on the edge of the bunk. Jim pulled up the desk chair to sit in front of Blair, and reached out, taking Blair's thin hands in his own. "Blair?" The young man didn't know what it was, exactly. Whether it was the memories of the crematorium, the faint remembrances of the nightmares or simply the gentle, caring touch of another human, but Blair started to weep. Tears poured down his face, and his frail shoulders shook. Jim reacted and pulled Blair against his chest, using his shoulder to muffle the sobs. "I'm here, Blair. You're not alone." Quietly he rocked the younger man, feeling the hot tears soaking his shirt. "I'm here." 

Finally the sobs quieted enough for Blair to attempt to speak. "Oh, God. It was so awful. Some of the bodies... James, some of them weren't bodies, they were living people and they were thrown into the fires with the dead bodies. And the smell... the smell of people burning, and the ashes... they felt like hands... felt like hundreds of hands on me, tugging on me, clamoring for my attention. All wanting to know why I was alive and they weren't." He shuddered again as he remembered. "And the fires were so hot. But no matter how much I sweat, I couldn't get the ashes off." He reached out, seeking Jim's comfort again. The officer had not let go, and Blair put one of his hands on Jim's arm as it held him. "I know now that I'm going to die here. Because within these walls, there is no God, and what I saw today were surely the fires of Hell." 

"You won't die here. I will protect you. There may only be so much I can do for the others but I have sworn to protect you." 

Blair pulled back to look up into the serious eyes of the German officer holding him. What he saw there he couldn't put a name to, but it seemed natural for the young man to put his hand on the back of the captain's neck and exert the smallest bit of pressure, urging him forward. Their lips met softly, and Blair opened his mouth the smallest bit and Jim took the kiss over, a gentle hunger consuming them both as the spark of life that had seemed dead in them both stirred once more. As the first kiss broke, Blair knew somehow they would survive. The captain would keep him safe and he and Jim and Naomi would survive. He looked at Jim and parted his lips slightly, inviting another kiss which the captain gladly bestowed upon the young man, and pushed him to lie on the bunk. Jim crawled in beside the young man and drew the blankets up over them both, and cradled Blair closely. "Sleep, Blair, I will watch over you." 

~ * ~ * ~ 

Jim woke at dawn, the form in his arms thrashing about. He stilled the swinging arms and touched Blair's soft lips with his own. "Blair. Sssh. It's me." 

Blair's eyes widened for a moment as he fought to think what was happening, and then the memories flooded back to him. "James." 

"Jim," the captain corrected. "But only when we're like this. Go back to your bed before we are discovered; we will talk when the others are gone today." 

Blair nodded once in acknowledgement. He moved to rise from Jim's bed, and found his fingers intertwined with Jim's. He squeezed the man's fingers once, and felt a squeeze in return as he regretfully loosened himself from Jim's comforting hold. The captain watched as the young man returned to his bed, and Jim lay in the warm spot left by the other man's body. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

Blair was awake before anyone else in the barracks, except for Jim. He'd slept lightly after returning to his own bunk, his arms wrapped around himself as he tried to regain the feeling of warmth and security that the captain's body had offered. He'd been unable to, and finally had dozed until the call for wake-up and the beginning of the day's work. 

His eyes had met Jim's as he filed out for the morning meal, and the officer had smiled once, warmly, and then quickly dropped his eyes and his expression to the bland mask he usually wore, but that brief smile Blair held close to him. After the meal, he'd helped to hand out the day's work assignments, and soon he and Jim were alone in the small office. "Blair." 

"Captain." 

"Jim." 

"Jim," Blair echoed. "Thank you." 

"No, thank you. You... you brought something back in me I thought that had been lost forever," Jim whispered quietly. "There was a flame that I thought had gone out inside me, and you brought that back to life with your gentle hands and sweet touch." He held out his hand for the young man and he approached, staying a safe distance apart. "You said last night there couldn't be a God here because this is Hell. But there has to be, Blair. There has to be a God here, because we found each other." 

"No, Jim. There is no God here. **We** found each other because we need each other, I see something in you that I don't understand, that I don't want to see in this place because I know it'll die, just like everyone and everything else in this camp." 

"I would rather have stolen moments and fleeting happiness than never to know it at all," Jim said huskily. "It only gives you a reason to survive." 

"Or a reason to want to die rather than see **it** die." 

Jim did not know how to counter that statement, knowing exactly how the other man felt. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

Weeks in the camps turned into months, and the nights were spent together, stealing kisses and comfort from each other. Jim endured two more beatings from the Commandant, one for trying to bring medication to one of his sick charges and one for refusing to lash a man for stumbling and dropping his load of bodies. The last had Jim taking the man's punishment as well as his own, and Blair had silently tended to him, the salt of his tears stinging Jim's broken flesh. 

For the young man, though, the weekends were the worst times. Work went on as usual, only Jim was not around, and Blair was physically sickened every time he walked by the empty desk and bunk, knowing where Jim was and what was happening. And why. 

In the early hours of Monday morning, Blair would wake and go to Jim, who would come in silently and strip, scrubbing himself red as he bathed from the bucket of water Blair would leave by his bedside. He always refused to kiss Blair after returning, instead holding him close, lying almost on top of him and saying nothing. In those brief moments, between dawn and waking, Blair's heart ached for the man whose presence had become a guiding light to him, a beacon of hope. 

Then Blair's entire world crashed one morning as he saw a red-haired corpse on the way to the crematorium. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

Blair had just returned from the Commandant's office, passing more of Jim's paperwork through to the administrator and was returning to the barracks when he passed the body carts, making their trips to the crematoriums. He stopped in his tracks as he saw a body with shorn red hair on the stacks, and he could not tear his eyes away as the cart hit a bump and the body slid closer to the edge. His mother's lifeless eyes were open, her jaw broken as they had removed several of her teeth for the gold that filled them. He stood rooted to the spot until a shadow fell over him, and only then did he move to see Jim standing over him. 

"Blair. What?" When Blair didn't answer him, he followed the young man's stricken gaze, his own falling on Naomi's body as it passed by. "Oh, God. Blair, get inside. Now, before you draw attention to yourself. Lock the door when you get there. Go." He gave the young man a push to get him started, and thankfully, Jim's prayers were answered and Blair moved towards the barracks, walking like a dead man. 

Jim turned and grabbed the closest man he could, thankfully one of his own. "Go stand by the door, but do not go in. If anyone asks why you are standing there, tell them you are guarding a man in isolation, on my orders. They won't countermand my orders in my own command. What are you standing there for, go!" He raised his voice and shouted and the man almost tripped over his feet heading for the door. 

Jim, meanwhile, headed for the captain's barracks. He wanted answers. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

Blair sat on Jim's bunk, the tears unable to come. Naomi was dead. Jim hadn't been able to protect her. Still, though, he knew the price Jim was paying, every weekend. He couldn't blame the captain, not for this. But that changed nothing, his mother was dead, the sacrifice wasted, the hopes and dreams he'd dared to foster destroyed again. 

Finally the tears fell. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

Jim ran double-time across the compound. He had the answers he'd gone after, and the captain responsible for Naomi's death lay beaten, and taken to the infirmary. Jim had lied to every question that was asked of him by his superiors, and had escaped with only a reprimand on his record about the incident, which he no longer gave a damn about. The only thing that mattered to him now was getting back to Blair. 

As he ran, Jim realized something, and masked his face not to show it. Escape was now the only option left. Naomi was gone, the number of his men was down to less than ten, and he'd refused a new assignment. They'd be asking questions soon, questions Jim couldn't afford to have asked. He scrambled in his pocket for the key to the door, and opened it quickly, his eyes coming to rest immediately on Blair's shaking form. He slammed the door shut and locked it again, and knelt between his legs, his elbows on Blair's knees as he turned Blair's face up to meet his. 

Tear-streaks adorned Blair's hollowed-out cheeks and sunken eyes. Jim took the cloth and bucket by the bed and gently washed Blair's face clean, forcing him to lie down on the bunk while Jim sat beside him, holding his hand. "It was the gas," he said softly, stroking the man's forehead. 

"I know," Blair whispered in a voice hoarse from crying. "I saw where they..." His voice failed and he rolled away from Jim, curling up on himself, sobbing brokenly. Jim tugged against a resistant shoulder, and in a moment Blair gave in and wrapped himself around Jim's body, weeping against the strong chest of the only man he trusted. Jim said nothing, just offered comfort the best he could, his cheek pressed against the skinned flesh of a shorn head as he held Blair tightly to him. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

In the end, Jim had had to sedate the young man. After Jim's beating for trying to sneak medication out, he had learned to simply go and ask for it himself, and hide the pills in his jaw until outside the dispensary, and then spit them out before they could be dissolved. He had done that several times with sleeping pills, and had taken one and powdered it and mixed it with a cup of water and finally got Blair to drink it. 

He had put Blair in his bunk, and had written an excuse to the Commandant changing Blair's work order to cleaning the barracks that day, which he ended up doing himself. Finally, night came and Jim settled himself into his bunk, missing Blair sleeping beside him but acknowledging the fact that he needed the rest. 

Several hours later, Jim was wakened by a warm body--Sandburg--crawling in beside him, and Jim moved to give the young man his customary spot between Jim and the wall. Instead of lying back down, Blair leaned over and kissed Jim hard, his tongue demanding entrance to taste the captain, and Jim was shocked. Blair took advantage of the surprise and moved to lay on top of Jim, who promptly rolled over and threw him off onto the bunk. "Blair?" he said, almost silently. 

"Jim... let me make you feel better, let me make myself feel better." Blair's hands were sliding over the rough gray undershirt that Jim slept in, seeking a way to touch skin. "I owe you this, after everything you did for my moth--for Naomi." 

"No." 

"Jim, she's gone. I know that. Nothing will bring her back. I know what you had to do. Let me help you erase that." His hands clawed desperately at Jim's chest. "I can help you." 

"Not this way, Blair." He put himself against the wall and tucked Blair against him, Blair's back to his chest, his arms firmly pinning Blair's to his sides. His mouth rested at Blair's ear. "Not this way. You did help me erase it, every time I came back to find you here waiting for me and you held me as I held you, that erased it. You don't owe me anything Blair. I know this isn't what you want, not really." He hugged the young man close. "And I won't take it from you. Not now. Not until you're ready." 

Blair turned over in Jim's arms and wept once more. Tears for himself, for Naomi, for Jim--the soldier who had given so much of himself to save them both. He wept in the warm circle of Jim's arms until he had no more tears left, and then fell dreamlessly asleep. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

When Jim woke in the morning, Blair was still sleeping. He looked down at the sleeping man, and sighed softly. He did want to know Blair's body, but he could not accept the offer of the previous night. The thought of Blair bartering his body as though it were nothing nearly sickened the captain. He touched Blair's face lightly, his fingertips barely skimming over the almost paper-thin skin. _Oh, how I would love you were we not trapped in this hell,_ Jim thought sadly. _I would make you mine for all time._

Blair looked up at Jim, slowly opening his eyes. He felt vulnerable, open for anything, but still gasped in surprise as he saw Jim's face. The mask was gone, and for brief, beautiful moments Blair saw the pure, unadulterated love that Jim held to so tightly. The soft smile, the joy in the feel of his fingertips on Blair's skin, and the young man wondered for long moments if there were anything that pure left inside him to feel. As he watched Jim's mask fall back into place, he realized that there had to be. There had to be something inside of him to return and match what Jim had for him. 

"Jim..." 

"Sssh. Just listen. I must ask you this, I need to know. Are you resigned to die here, or will you trust in me just once more to lead you out of this hell?" 

Blair's eyes widened at the question. "What do you mean?" 

"There will soon be questions, Blair, questions for and about both of us, that neither of us can afford to answer. If they find out about any of this, we'll both be killed. I don't want you to die. Will you trust me to bring you out of this place?" 

Blair studied Jim intently for several long moments. He knew that Jim was right. But he wasn't entirely sure that he didn't want to die. The only thing Blair knew for sure was he didn't want to survive in this place any longer. "I trust you, Jim." 

The German captain knew just how hard that had been for Blair to say. "I won't fail you this time. I'll have the transfer written up to send you to another camp. I'll escort you, and once we're out into a safe range, I'll turn you loose, then come back and tell them you tried to escape and I shot you. I can lie about that convincingly enough." 

"You'll come back and face death, for letting a prisoner escape." 

Jim rubbed his hand tiredly across his eyes. "Maybe. But I'm tired of seeing you live like this. You deserve so much better." 

"Come with me, then. We'll both go. Don't you think you deserve a better life too?" 

Jim slowly shook his head. "Not with the blood on my hands. It's better this way; if we both go they'll come and look for us, but if you go and I come back... they won't go and look for you, at least you'll be alive." 

"I'm alive now," Blair pointed out. He didn't know why. 

"No, you're just waiting to die. I can see it in your eyes. Life is outside this place." 

Suddenly Blair was hit with a realization. About what he saw in Jim, what he wanted to see in himself, why he kept coming to this man. "Life is what we have, between us," Blair whispered. "This light, the fire you told me came back into your soul, that's life. Fear, hope, love, it's all the same thing, we're alive here because we're together and if we separate, we die inside and then, it's just what you said. We wait to die on the outside." 

"Blair, I can't. If I go with you, and I want to, they will come and look for us and we will both die. I can't live with your blood on my hands also." 

But the young man's mind was made up, Jim could see it in his eyes. "Either we go, or nobody goes. You sacrificed yourself over and over again for my mother," he said, stumbling over the words and the memories. "I won't let you do it for me, too." 

"This is not about your mother, Blair." 

"No, Jim, it's about us, it's about this thing we've got between us, the light in this Hell, the one thing they haven't stripped away from us because it's something they can't touch," he whispered fiercely. 

Jim knew then he had lost. He would go with Blair. "All right. We'll go together." He wrapped his arms around the young man's frail body and pulled him close. "We will go together. But no one can know. Two days, Blair. Two days is all I need." 

Blair laid his head on Jim's chest. "I've got nothing holding me here now." 

~ * ~ * ~ 

The next morning was a flurry of activity for the captain. He filled out a stack of paperwork an inch and a half high, wrangling Blair's transfer to the Birkenau camp. He knew it would be his duty to escort Blair to the train and to the camp and sign receipt of him over. Before that happened, Jim hoped to be long gone with Blair. 

Then he heard, in that morning's staff meeting, the best piece of news that he'd heard in a very long time. The Allies were on their way to break up the camps. The main body of German troops had been defeated or were under Allied lines, and they were marching across to the camps. _If Blair and I can find the Allies, then we'll be safe. I pray._

He dropped off the paperwork himself in the administrator's office, and then headed back to his barracks. His heart grew cold as he looked at the door, marked in a red X. _They're trying to cover their tracks, Dear God, don't let me be too late._ He quickened his pace, and flung open the door to the barracks to find Blair calmly cleaning and scrubbing as his work order denoted. He grabbed Blair by the arm and whispered in his ear. "We're leaving. I'll explain later. The Allies are coming and they're gassing everyone they can and getting rid of the bodies. They're calling ours tonight. We've got to leave before they do." He went to the footlocker, dug rapidly through to the bottom, and pulled out a black jumpsuit and threw it to Blair. "Put that on. Now." He stripped his own uniform off, and dressed quickly in a larger version of the jumpsuit, and then put his uniform back on. "Hurry." 

Blair did as he was told, and then put the camp-issued clothes back on over it. He stood behind Jim, who was scanning the yard. There was already a great deal of bustle going on, and most of it away from where they needed to be. "All right," Jim said, checking the sidearm Blair had never seen him use since the first day. He'd almost forgotten Jim carried it. "Look in the locker, pull out the black box and hand me all the clips that look like this," he said, de-chambering the weapon's clip and showing it to Blair. 

Blair went through the box. "There's five of them." 

"Give me three. Put the other two in your pockets with the other gun." 

"Other gun?" Blair searched through the box and found another gun that matched Jim's, and shoved it in his pocket. "Got it." 

"All right. Let's go." Jim grabbed Blair's arm and dragged him against the building. "Stay close." He led the way to the back of the stalag building, and to the fence surrounding it. Three buildings over, there was a hole in the fence, and that's what they'd use to escape. He shoved Blair towards the hole first, and watched as the young man squeezed through the tight fit. Jim's body was too large to fit through, and he had to wiggle his shoulders through first and then turn over and slide his hips through, sacrificing some of the skin on his thighs to the fence. Soon, though, he was through and on his feet, gun in hand as he and Blair started through the woods. "We'll have to make a wide circle to meet the Allied line coming through." 

Blair nodded in answer. "Let's go, Jim. Please." He headed off in the way that Jim had indicated, staying close to the foliage line. 

Darkness fell, and Jim drew close to Blair. "We've got to keep moving." He stopped and raised his head, listening. This is one time he didn't curse having his problem, not when he could make it work for him. "They're coming. They're just now leaving to search for us." 

"What? How?" 

"I can hear. Trust me. Explanation later. Move now. Get into the woods. Do not get out of sight. If you can't see me, call me. I'll find you." Jim moved an arm's length away from Blair. "Keep walking and follow the curve of the treeline." They moved together for hours, Jim listening and occasionally changing their direction based on what he heard. 

Blair put his hand on the gun in his pocket and kept moving. He wasn't even sure that he could pull the thing out and use it, but it felt good to have it. He kept his eyes on Jim, focusing on the back of his neck as the black blended in with the night and the surroundings in the woods. He jumped as a hand closed around his wrist. "Jim!" 

"Sssh. Keep your voice down. We're going to stop and rest. If they get closer we'll go on the move again, but we both need rest." Jim pulled him deeper into the woods, and into a crack on the rock face. It was a tight fit, narrow at the front but widened enough at the back of the fissure to allow them both to sit together, Blair against Jim's chest as the larger man cradled the gun as well as the younger man. "We should be safe here for the night. 

Blair looked up at Jim, seriousness in his eyes, fear in his throat. "If we are caught, you must promise me one thing." 

"What?" 

"That you will kill me before they take me back. Having tasted this life with you, even for the brief days we've had, I can't go back to that. Promise me, Jim. Promise that if we are caught, you will kill me before you allow them to take me back to that hell." Jim nodded once, refusing to speak. "Say the words, Jim. Swear it to me." 

"I swear to you, Blair. I will kill you before they take you." His eyes met those of his love. "And myself next. They'll not have either of us." 

Blair kissed Jim's hands as they hid in the dark crevice together. "Then I will be waiting for you on the other side." 

Jim dropped a fervent kiss onto the back of Blair's neck. "It won't come to that." 

~ * ~ * ~ 

Blair had slept during the night, and Jim had dozed from time to time, alert for any disturbances that his hearing came across. Once, in the early morning hours, Blair had woken and again offered his body to Jim, and the captain had refused again. The young man had nodded and slept again for a few more hours until Jim shook him awake and they'd gotten moving again. 

Now it was noon, and they were shaded from the heat of the day by the overhanging trees. Jim's hearing told him that the German soldiers were still behind him. There was only a crew of three, and Jim realized the rest had to be back at the camps, murdering the remaining inmates and stoking the hellfires with the bodies. The travel was beginning to wear on Blair's already-abused form, and the trio of soldiers behind them were closing the distance between them. Looking around for a safe place, he saw in the distance a tree with a child's large treehouse safe in the branches. Pausing, he drew Blair close to the tree. "Up, we're going up to the treehouse. If we're lucky, they'll miss us entirely." 

Blair nodded and with Jim's help scaled the tall tree, but lacked the strength to get to the treehouse, instead settling for the moment in a deep V-shaped limb near Jim's head. "Jim? 

"I'm here," Jim said, sitting on his knees. "They're coming. Captain Dych is--" 

"Dych! That's the bastard that betrayed you and killed my mother!" 

Jim looked up at Blair. "Sssh. Yes, he is. He is the one leading the squad, and he just split them up. He's coming straight for us, the others are spreading out past the tree line and deeper into the woods." 

"I want to kill him," Blair said, balancing the gun on his arm, pointing it at the approaching officer's head. "After what he did to you and did to my mother, he deserves it." His finger itched to squeeze the trigger. 

Jim put his hand on the gun and tugged. "No, Blair. That's not who you are. You can't shoot him. Not in cold blood. Because if you squeeze that trigger, you will become one of them. And you're not." 

"He raped you, Jim, over and over again," Blair pointed out with gritted teeth. "He raped you and betrayed you and killed my mother and God only knows how many others. Give me a reason not to pull this trigger." 

Jim thought for long moments. "Because, Blair Sandburg is not a killer, not the man I know anyway. He values life too much, he knows how precious a gift it is, and he won't ruin his by doing something I know he'll regret when this is all done." 

Blair's gun hand wavered, and slowly it dropped to his side as Jim stood and hugged him around the waist. 

"Oh now isn't this sweet?" 

Jim stiffened and turned to face the other captain, his hand on his gun. "Dych." 

The other German wore bruises and cuts from Jim's prior beating like badges of honor. "Kapitan Ellison. Your gun, please." Jim dropped his gun to the ground at his feet, and kicked it towards Dych, who picked it up. "Now, out of the tree please, and come with me." 

Blair didn't budge, his gun hidden behind the tree branches as Jim stepped forward. "Forget it, Reinhart. You can take me back and I won't fight you, but you can't have him." 

"And why would I want a condemned officer who deserted his post?" 

" _Seinetwegen. Er ist mein Liebhaber. Er muessen befreien._ " [[Because of him. He is my lover; he must go free.]] Jim deliberately switched to German so that Blair would have a harder time understanding what he was saying. 

" _Was bringt das?_ " [[What's your point?]] Dych made a point of looking bored with Jim's proposal. 

" _Ich war Eure hure."_ Jim paused, taking a deep breath. _"Ich habe weider. Und was wunschen Sie noch?_ [[I was your whore. I will be again. What more do you want?]] 

_"Euer Gehorsem."_ [[Your obedience.]] 

_"Ja."_ Jim stepped forward, deliberately ignoring Blair's quickened heartbeat as he puzzled out the words. 

_"Streifen."_ That was Dych's order, and he sat down on a close by rock. [[Strip.]] 

Jim raised his hands to his shoulders, sliding the black jumpsuit off his shoulders, and let it hang around his waist as he bent over to push it the rest of the way off. 

"Jim, stop," Blair said, a little desperately. He was still translating furiously in his head, but he'd heard words he knew immediately; _hure. Gehorsem. Streifen._ He could fill in the rest of the blanks and he didn't like the picture he came up with. "Jim, please." 

"I can't, Blair. He knows what he's doing. He's testing me," Jim said, as he finished pulling off his boots and stepped out of the jumpsuit. "He's seeing if I will carry through on my promise. And if I will, he will let you go." 

" _Auf die Knie. Geschlossen Eurn Augen._ " [[Down on your knees. Close your eyes.]] 

Following his instructions, Jim knelt on the prickly grass of the woods and shut his eyes. He heard the soft clicks of a hammer being drawn back, and then for a brief moment felt the cold muzzle of a gun pointed at the back of his neck. Then the crack of a gunshot, but instead of the expected oblivion, he found himself being knocked to the ground by a large falling object and when he opened his eyes he saw Blair on his chest, raining soft kisses over his face. "He was going to kill you, Jim. I had to do something." Jim said nothing and drew Blair close. "Say something, Jim." 

"Are you all right?" 

"I will be." Blair surrendered the gun to Jim, who held onto the fragile man a few moments more and then rose to his feet, dressing quickly and scouring Dych's body for anything useful. 

Jim ended up with a third gun, another clip to add to their stash, a small canteen of water, and a small leather pouch to carry the things in. Jim stripped the uniform off the body and dumped it into a nearby ravine, and offered the clothing to Blair, who refused it. The uniform followed the body into the ravine. "All right, let's go. We've got to go now, before the others get here." He took Blair's hand in his. "Thank you." 

"It's my turn to repay the favor," Blair said softly, following the large man without fear. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

They traveled throughout the day, and when the night came, Jim led his friend to a nearby barn. He climbed up to the hayloft, and brought the young man up behind him. Moving quickly, Jim made two small pallets of hay, but Blair shook his head. "We can share; we'll need the warmth." With a wide smile, Jim nodded his agreement and combined the two small pallets into a large, soft mattress. He searched quickly around the loft, and found a discarded quilt in the corner, and covered the hay with it, saving their bodies from the prickle of the dried grass, and he knelt there, and drew Blair down beside him. Placing a finger over the young man's mouth, Jim kissed him firmly, his arms holding the precious man's body tightly to his own. Blair whimpered quietly, a sound that Jim consumed in the kiss, and he raised his hands to cup Jim's face. "I want you," he whispered. "Not because of anything else but because I don't think I can stand another moment without feeling you close to me." 

Jim rose to his knees, letting Blair settle carefully underneath him as he stripped, the jumpsuit falling easily away from his body as he shed it, and was soon naked and waiting. "Can I touch you?" he asked Blair softly, and the young man nodded. 

"I was hoping you would." 

Jim smiled at Blair, truly smiled, and Blair was again amazed by the beauty that shone from his eyes. Slowly the German undressed his lover, and was shocked to find that even through the privations Blair had suffered, that despite the thinness of his skin, it was still soft to the touch. 

Jim kept his touch light and delicate, careful not to hurt his lover's fragile body. He moved to the side and finished undressing him, revealing a body that had been lean and muscular, beautiful before suffering and still possessing a grace that Jim had never seen before. Blair quivered under his intense gaze, and he smiled suddenly, overwhelmed with the feelings that coursed through him. Blair returned the smile and raised one hand, and Jim kissed the palm and then guided the hand to rest over his beating heart. Blair did the same to one of Jim's hands, and they sat together like that for several moments, each feeling the beating heart of the other, until slowly the beats synchronized and what had been two hearts beating fell into rhythm with each other. When Blair felt that, he looked at the wonderment on Jim's face and realized that this man had been his only reason for survival. 

Blair was already partially erect, and several slow strokes of Jim's hand brought him to full hardness. He kissed Jim's lips softly, and the German smiled. "Sssh," he reminded Blair, and trailed a light line of butterfly kisses down Blair's chest, over his sunken stomach and took the hard cock that waited for him in his mouth. With long, unbroken strokes, Jim slid his mouth up and down the length of his lover's erection, one long-fingered hand spidered over Blair's chest as the other gently massaged Blair's soft sac. The young man's whimpers were soft and needy as Jim loved him, and then he cried out softly. "Jim!" 

The other man heard the cry of his name and pulled back in time to collect the precious fluid of Blair's orgasm. Most of the slickness he spread over his own erection, the rest over the fingers of his left hand as he urged Blair onto his stomach. Knowing what was coming, Blair rolled over and exposed himself for Jim, eager to feel the other man filling him. Jim carefully stretched the waiting body of his lover, making sure he was open and ready before urging him back over, and then filling him completely. 

Blair arched his back as Jim slid slowly inside him, and he moved closer, taking as much of his lover as possible. He lifted himself, helping Jim by sliding down his lover's slick shaft, and wrapped arms and legs around him. Jim held their bodies together with one arm, the other sliding between them and teasing the tight buds that stood out on Blair's chest. He nibbled on Blair's throat and shoulder, his fingers still tweaking Blair's nipples as he rocked, the smaller man sitting in his lap now as he moved. 

The gentle rocking motion was sending shocks throughout Blair's gaunt frame. He felt each motion deeply, each touch burned him to the core. He buried his face in Jim's neck, whispering his lover's name over and over again as Jim's thrusts became more frantic, more needy, and Blair answered with kisses and nips to the handsome throat before him. Blair reached down to stroke himself and found Jim's hand already there, and he clasped his hand over it, both stroking together to wring pleasure out of them both. 

Jim felt Blair's muscles rippling around him with each stroke, and knew that the young man's climax was rushing on him. He thrust as hard as he dared, desperately afraid of harming his lover at the same time needing to pleasure him. As he felt the sheath around his cock contracting tightly, he possessed Blair's mouth in a deep, fierce kiss, consuming the heartfelt cry that heralded the spilling of his seed. At almost the same instant, the moment Blair's hot seed touched his skin, Jim came hard, buried to the hilt inside Blair's body. 

Blair breathed heavily as the warmth of Jim's essence spread inside him. He felt invigorated, and at the same time, he wanted to weep bitter tears for the people who could no longer enjoy the love Blair could no longer deny he felt for his rescuer. He offered his mouth to Jim again, and found himself taken by a sweet, plundering mouth as Jim gently tasted and teased Blair's mouth. He used the bottom corner of the old quilt to wipe himself and his lover clean, and then Jim kissed Blair's shoulder again. "The spark of light inside me that you would not let die just blazed to life again," Jim whispered softly against his skin. He drew Blair close, and wrapped his beloved's body in his limbs, tangling their arms and legs together as sleep overcame them both. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

In the morning, Jim woke to find Blair's hand resting on his groin while his other hand rested on Jim's left pectoral, cushioning his sleeping face. Jim shook his head softly and tried to imagine the angelic expression on his lover's face on the gaunt man who had entered his life such a short time before, and the resulting image left him breathless. Blair was beautiful like this, but healthy and with the halo of burnished curls around his face he would be exquisite, and it was a sight Jim hoped to see. 

Blair woke slowly, stretching his sore body. It had been too long since he'd had a lover, and Jim had been thorough and vigorous. Several other times during the night, one or the other of them had woken to the other exploring his body and with kisses, touches, and caresses they learned how to love each other. He found Jim studying him, and smiled. "Don't you wish the world would stay at bay and we could remain here like this, always?" 

Jim rubbed his thumb over Blair's swollen lips. "Yes, I do. But we can't. Already they'll be looking for us here, and we must be gone." He leaned in to kiss Blair, and tenderly caress him. "And we've got to find you something to eat." 

Blair paused in his exploration of Jim's chest. "Jim, I'm all right. If there's one thing that hell taught my body, it's how to function without food. I will be all right until we find a safe haven." 

"Then at least drink something," Jim cajoled, passing over the canteen. Blair sipped several mouthfuls from the container and passed it back to Jim. Jim did the same, sipping several mouthfuls and then slinging it over his shoulder as he got dressed. He watched as Blair did the same, and then drew him into a crushing hug. "I promise you, we'll be safe soon." 

~ * ~ * ~ 

It was almost sundown when Jim stopped Blair in his tracks. "The Allies. I recognize--a lot of things I shouldn't. You go first, because if they hear the German in my voice, they'll shoot first and ask later." 

Blair was about to rise to his feet when rough hands jerked him there, and did the same to Jim. "Who are you?" barked a clipped British voice. 

"I'm Professor Blair Sandburg of the Hope of Yahweh Yeshiva in Austria. This is Captain James Ellison, **refugee** from the Army of the Third Reich! We came from the extermination camp three days behind us!" He threw up his hands to shield his eyes from the spotlight that was suddenly shown on him, and Jim dropped to his knees in agony as the bright light overwhelmed his on-edge senses. "Jim!" 

Blair felt himself violently jerked away from Jim as they checked the metal tags around his neck and confirmed that he was a German soldier. Blair struggled as jackboots and rifle butts were used to beat Jim into submission. "Stop it, you're going to hurt him!" Blair tried to break away, to go to his friend and finally he succeeded, stomping on the feet of the men who held him. He threw himself over Jim, and raised his arms to shield his head, expecting the blows to continue. 

"Get him out of here," the same voice continued. 

"But Lieutenant Brackett, the captain said that prisoners--" 

"The captain is not here, and this is a German officer! You will follow my orders, Sargent Rafe, is that clear?" 

"Yes, sir!" Rafe and another soldier, a portly black man, reached in and pulled the struggling man off of his companion. 

"Jim!" Blair yelled again, and watched as a weak struggle renewed in his lover. "Stop fighting them before they kill you!" he screamed desperately as he was pulled into the camp. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

Jim was hurting all over when he woke up. He did a quick inventory of his injuries as he looked around, and he realized nothing was broken--not yet--and he was locked inside a gray metal building. There were no windows in the building, only the cot he'd been thrown on. He looked down to find himself naked except for his ID tags, clothing and everything else gone. He sat down on the cot and tried not to panic as he cast about with his hearing, latching onto Blair's raised voice as soon as he heard it. 

_You've got to let him out of there, Lieutenant! He's one of the good guys, he saved my fucking life! We got out of that hellhole together!_

That man is a prisoner of war, Professor Sandburg. We have liberated the camp that you and the German came from-- 

He has a name, damn you! It's Ellison, Captain James Ellison. 

\--and there were less than a hundred survivors. The soldiers have all been taken prisoner, and that is where our captain is now. 

He's a human being, you can't treat him like this! 

Try telling that to the people he killed, Professor. Now, if you will excuse me, I have other business to tend to. 

Blair's voice went silent after that, but Jim focused on the rapidly-pounding heartbeat, and then the footfalls that approached the shed. "Jim?" 

Jim tapped on the wall, bringing Blair close to where he leaned against the wall. "I'm here, Blair." 

"Jim, are you okay? I was so afraid--" 

"Sssh. They'll hear. I'm fine, Blair, don't worry. I can last through this." 

"The captain won't be back for days." 

"I heard." 

"I won't leave, Jim. They want me to go with them, to wherever they're taking the survivors. But I won't leave without you." 

"Are they treating you well?" 

"Yes. They gave me clothes and food and a place to sleep." 

"Good. Stay on their good side. I have been in worse places, Blair. Go and rest." 

"Jim..." 

"Blair. As you can see, I'm not going anywhere. And they won't kill me. They'll starve me a few days, okay. Maybe they'll beat me again. They'll keep me naked and try to humiliate me. None of that matters as long as you're being well cared for. When the captain comes back, you'll talk to him, he'll talk to me, officer to officer, and things will be okay." Jim didn't believe a word that he was saying, but he had to reassure his lover and sound sure of himself. 

"I'll come and see you as soon as they let me." 

"I'll look for you." 

Blair rested his forehead against the metal building. "Jim?" 

"Yes?" 

"I..." 

"I know." Jim closed his eyes and leaned back. "I feel the same way." 

"I'll find a way to get you out," Blair swore. "You saved me from my hell, let me save you from yours." 

"Blair. Listen to me." Jim's voice grew steely. "I forbid it. I know the ways of prison camps. I know the currency. Do not do this. Do not make me worry about you while I am locked in here, unable to protect you." 

"I can't just stand by--" 

"Yes. You can. Until the captain comes back, that is what I need you to do for me. Stay safe. Can you do that for me, Blair?" 

"Of course, Jim, I'm sorry. I just wanted to help you." 

"You are helping me, Blair. By keeping yourself safe, I don't have to worry about you. That is how you are helping me." 

"I've got to go; someone is coming. I will try and come back tonight." With that, Blair's footsteps headed away from the shed, and Jim laid back down on the cot, covering himself with the thin blanket. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

A week passed before the British captain returned to camp. 

During that week, Blair visited Jim daily. He worried about a hacking cough that Jim seemed to have developed. He knew the German was lying when he told of being fed because he overheard Lieutenant Brackett bragging that the German bastard was getting just what he deserved. So he swallowed his tears and listened to Jim's brave lies and promised not to do anything against the men holding Jim there. 

Jim endured the nightly beatings and rapes in stoic silence, refusing to cry out for fear of Blair hearing him and becoming agitated. When Blair came to talk to him through the blank gray walls, Jim fought to keep his voice steady and his heartache from his voice. The cough he tried to control as much as possible but Blair still found out and questioned him daily. 

He had been forced to use one corner of the shed as a privy, and using his hands he'd dug a trench to use and covered it each time he used it. After two days the smell had sickened him, after the fourth, he no longer noticed it. His mouth was cracked and dry, and he knew that if something didn't happen soon, he would die. 

The day the captain returned, Jim was lying shivering on his bunk when the door was opened. 

"Sweet Jesus. Get that man out of there, now. Give him a bath, take him to my physician, then get him something to wear and something to eat. Then send Brackett to my tent right away." 

"Yes, sir, Captain Banks." The two men that had brought Jim in before covered their faces with handkerchiefs and half pulled and half lifted the man between them and dragged him out of the shed. They dropped him and he pitched forward, landing hard on the dirt as Blair came flying out of nowhere just in time to catch his head. He jerked off the shirt he was wearing, and wrapped it around Jim's waist, tying the arms in a knot at his back. 

"Jim!" Blair cradled Jim's head in his lap. "What did they do to you?" 

"Nothing I couldn't survive," he croaked. "I told you so." 

Blair glared at the two sergeants. "Take him back to my tent." 

"Professor, we have orders." 

Blair gestured to Jim's half-dead form. "To hell with your orders," he hissed. "Your orders did this to him in the first place. I thought the Germans were inhuman. At least they just killed us. They didn't torture us first." 

Both men flinched under Blair's accusations. "Henry, perhaps we'd better." Together, the three men struggled under Jim's bulk and manhandled him into the temporary tent that had been put up for Blair. "We'll be back with something for him to wear and something to clean him up with." 

Blair ignored the soldiers as they slipped out of the tent, instead concentrating on Jim's face. "Jim...sssh, you're with me now." 

"Blair... you okay?" 

He nodded, tears slipping to splash down on Jim's cheeks. "I'm fine, and you will be too." He held Jim up as the big man coughed hard, cradling him and then letting him lie back down. "Don't worry, Jim, I'm going to take care of you this time." He continued speaking soothingly to Jim as a large tin tub of hot water was brought in, and he rubbed Jim on the shoulder. "Think you can help me get you into that tub?" 

"Of course." Slowly, with small, shuffling steps, Jim made it to the tub with Blair supporting him, and fell heavily into the tub, splashing some of the water. 

Blair knelt beside him, picking up the cake of soap and a rough cloth. "Get him something to wear, and where is the soup?" Blair's voice was hard, totally unlike anything Jim had heard before, but before he could question it, he was shaken by another round of coughing. Blair gentled him as he coughed, and then as he relaxed in the tub, the young man scrubbed him clean of the filth that covered him. "You don't look good in a beard, Jim, but you'll just have to live with it for now." 

"Don't care," Jim said. "As long as I got you." 

Clothes and food were brought to Blair's tent, and after a bit of cajoling, Blair got Jim to finish the bowl of soup and drink the water that was brought to him. After the meal, Blair helped Jim get dressed, and the former officer was sitting on the side of the bunk when a sharp rap came on the outer tent pole. "Come in," Blair called. 

A tall black man, dressed in the red uniform of His Majesty's Continental Army walked into the tent, bearing the decorations and bars of a captain's rank. "Captain Ellison? I'm Captain Simon Banks, of His Majesty's Army." 

"Forgive me if I don't rise and bow, Captain. I am James Ellison." 

Banks noticed that Ellison had totally discarded his military title. "You are no longer affiliated with the Army of the Third Reich?" 

Jim laughed softly, but the laugh turned into a cough. "I have no associations whatsoever, Captain Banks. I am, at the moment, unaffiliated. My friend tried to tell your men that, but I don't think they believed him." 

Banks turned and waved another man into the tent. "This is Doctor Joseph McKay, my personal physician. He will tend to you, and then we will speak again later. Mr. Ellison, I must offer my most sincere apologies. Lieutenant Brackett is being disciplined as we speak. And if you would identify the others..." 

"No, Captain." Blair started to protest but Jim put his hand on Blair's shoulder. 

Banks nodded once in understanding. "Very well then. You're in good hands now, Mr. Ellison." 

"Thank you, Captain." 

Blair waited until the captain was gone and looked at Jim. "It's over, isn't it, Jim?" 

A single nod was Jim's only answer. 

~ * ~ * ~ 

**_Epilogue: Fifteen Years Later, circa 1960_**

Jim Ellison leaned on his cane as he moved through the museum in search of his lover. A light twinge in his knee, damaged during one of the beatings by the British, still bothered him in damp weather, and this winter was turning out to be damp. "Blair?" 

"Over here, Jim. By the diorama." Blair got to his feet, dusting his hands as he watched his lover approach. All things considered, time had been kind to both men. The cane and the slight limp were the only after-effects that Jim carried; Blair carried a number forever branded onto his body and a slight gastric disorder from the constant malnutrition. "Captain Banks sent us the heraldic symbol of his unit. I mounted it over the unit model." 

"I'm glad it got here in time for the opening." Jim sighed as he looked at his lover. He never got tired of it. Only one thing saddened him from time to time, and that was the fact that Blair had never grown his hair long again. He'd grown it out some, but kept it short with just a hint of his natural curl. "Everything is as perfect as it can be." 

"I just wish the whole thing had never happened. But it's up to us, and people like us, who survived, to make sure that what happened is never forgotten." 

Inside the door, mounted on the entryway, stood the faded and torn photograph of Naomi Sandburg that Jim had once risked his life to protect. The Naomi Sandburg Holocaust Memorial would be opening to the public next week, and Blair would be speaking again. Jim remained quietly out of the spotlight, working on his own private memorials; small wooden carvings, each with the name of a victim on it. Naomi's figurine had been an angel, and it resided in a place of honor in the museum's central exhibit. Under the photograph, Jim Ellison embraced Blair Sandburg, and finally, after fifteen years, in the arms of the man that he loved, did Jim allow himself tears for the men and women who had died. 

The End 


End file.
